I was pretty cranky on the morning of Dec. 7, but it was justified.It seems that our national media had forgotten all about what happened on another Sunday morning some 67 years ago and how it changed our lives forever. I haven’t forgotten that day and I never will.

In about 90 minutes’ time that day, about 2,400 Americans were dead, more than 1,100 were wounded and 18 ships were sunk during the Japanese sneak attack at Pearl Harbor.

Years ago, when my wife and I were considerably younger (and physically able), much of our free time was spent landscaping and keeping up the huge fields around our home.

In fact, once upon a time, when we just about had them tamed thanks to our frequent Saturday morning visits to Lancaster Feed and Farm Supply.

Nestled down at the low end of South Market Street across from Jacob’s Hollow, the “feed and farm” and neighboring International Harvester Farmall Tractor place were local landmarks that many of us visited on a regular basis.

Fall is with us. Those beautiful leaves of varying hues are gently fluttering over our lawns.

I am pleasantly surprised to observe that those hundreds of election signs, (at least those along my stretch of the Charlotte Highway), have been removed. I wish I could say the same for the leaves in my front yard.

Things are getting back to normal.

Billy Mays has a ton of new stuff to hawk on the television tube. Late night TV hosts are almost speechless. Politics has pretty much run its course, for now.

The pickle jar was a fixture in my parent’s bedroom. It sat on the floor beside the dresser and when Dad got ready for bed, he would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar.

The sounds that pocket change made as they were dropped into the jar were always fascinating. They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. However, the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.